I held his gaze anyway.
Even as my chin remained trapped in his grip, even as something inside me trembled violently.
“What if... what if I didn’t take the pill? What if I get pregnant?”
My words came out softer than I wanted, but I didn’t let them break.
“Listen to me very carefully,” he murmured, voice intimate and venomous.
“You are not fit to carry my blood. Your father’s filthy legacy runs through your veins, and I won’t let it poison the next generation. I’d rather spill my seed on the floor than let it take root inside you.”
His thumb pressed harder against my lower lip, eyes glittering with cruel satisfaction at the way I trembled.
The motion could have been mistaken for tenderness if not for the words that followed.
“Take the pills every single time I fuck you. Because the day I find out you’re pregnant with my child...”
He leaned in until his breath ghosted over my ear, voice dropping to a lethal whisper.
“I will rip it out of you myself before it even has a chance to grow. And then I’ll make you watch while I ensure you never get the chance again.”
“Am I clear, Elena?”
The finality of it made something inside me go very still.
My lips parted slightly.
My voice came out barely above a breath.
He would kill his own child?”
The question lingered.
“I will never allow my bloodline to be tainted by that filth.”
He released my chin with a light, dismissive shove, as though touching me had burned him.
The absence of his touch left my skin cold—emptier than before.
Tears burned behind my eyes, hot and insistent, threatening to spill.
I forced them down, swallowing hard, refusing to give him that satisfaction.
Instead, I let a small, trembling smile touch my lips.
“Since I would remain your wife,” I forced out, “does that mean you’d rather die without an heir at all?”
Vincenzo let out a low, humorless laugh, the sound sending chills down my spine.
“Yes,” he said, eyes narrowing with pure disdain.
“I would rather die childless than let a woman carrying the blood of my violator bear my child.”
The rejection sliced deep, making my stomach churn with humiliation.
He looked at me as if I were tainted, dirty — something he owned but would never allow to bear fruit.
Without another word, he turned on his heel and strode toward the door.
